


welcome home

by QuidProCrow



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, V.F.D., a whole lot of sadness, mentions of vfd recruitment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuidProCrow/pseuds/QuidProCrow
Summary: Everything changes, after Stain'd-by-the-Sea.





	welcome home

**Author's Note:**

> [jewishsnickets](https://jewishsnickets.tumblr.com) posted [this wonderful heartbreaking art](https://jewishsnickets.tumblr.com/post/172534587427/a-memory-and-dream-and-premonition-in) and the second I saw it all my fanfic instincts went wild, as if I wasn’t in the middle of writing at least seven other fanfics, and I dropped EVERYTHING to write this super sad fic, and I regret NOTHING

The last time I saw my brother, he was smuggling me onto a ship, and we did not know it was going to be the last time we saw each other. The last time before that was at a housewarming, attended by a number of people I had not seen in quite some time, where the woman I loved held my hand with both of hers, and I could believe that everyone in the room, including myself, was fine, a word which here means “had not lived a life of moral uncertainty.” The last time before that was a series of meetings disguised as a lonely teenager sitting on a park bench, flicking the ends of cigarettes that were not actually cigarettes into the nearby bush, to give him information I still tried to believe was worth the effort. The last time before that was not long after I resurfaced from my apprenticeship, when I was having an argument with our sister in the library at headquarters, who had herself recently resurfaced from her own tumultuous apprenticeship. 

I had come back to the city with an uneasy but fervent hope about what my siblings and I would discuss. I was fifteen, and I hadn’t seen either of them—to talk to, that is—in three years. 

I did not like arguing with my sister. What I did not like more, however, was how much time had changed us. Three years, in the grand scheme of what we call life, is not that long a time. But for a volunteer, it was long enough. It was long enough for one of us to wonder too much. It was long enough for the other to believe she understood.

“If you don’t want to help, fine,” Kit said, keeping most but not all of the irritation out of her voice. “That’s fine, L. But don’t take it upon yourself to interfere regardless.” 

“I was not interfering,” I said. “Interfering is a word which here means involving yourself in someone’s business on purpose, and all I did was—”

“All you did was ruin months of research,” Kit snapped. She gestured to the stack of files she'd left on the table in the library, the stack of files on which my teacup had fallen and ruined several pages of ink and photographs. “What's gotten into you?” 

I hadn’t intended to drop it. I hadn’t even intended to read my sister’s files. But the moment I caught a glimpse of my sister’s name, as I walked by holding my cup of tea, I stopped, and the moment I caught a glimpse of the content of the files, my hands had started to shake, and before I knew it, the tea was on the papers instead of remaining in my cup like a responsible cup of tea. And then there was my sister, staring at me as if she’d never seen me before, and I remembered what it was like to watch a friend turn into a stranger.

I wanted to think that my sister had, at one point, been the sort of person who would not refer to the young children our organization watched as 'research,’ but I was no longer sure. Part of me wondered if her anger was more because I was responsible for the situation that put Kit in the hands of untrustworthy legal authorities, and a deeper part of me wondered if she would ever forgive me. I reminded myself that Kit was not nearly so petty, but that look had not left her face. 

“Nothing's gotten into me,” I said, which ranks high, although certainly not at the top, on the list of unconvincing lies I’ve told in my life. 

“Those are volunteers, those are your future associates, and I can’t believe you would recklessly jeopardize their chance to be noble!”

But I would. I had not forgotten what happened when I tried recruiting people I considered my friends into our organization. I was not going to forget what I had done for our organization. I was not going to forget anytime soon. But there was no chance of me admitting that, as long as my sister had that fierce look on her face, as long as we were in a library that had once been a comfort but was now narrowing around me to the point that I wondered how much longer I would be able to look like I was breathing properly. 

Kit lowered her hand. “You’re not a child anymore, you know. Your apprenticeship is over. This is what we’re supposed to do.” 

“Is it?” I said, struggling to keep my voice level. “Is this what we’re supposed to do?” 

“L, you yourself said that we were the true human tradition—”

The words were out before I could stop them. “What if I was wrong?”

Kit stared, almost in disbelief. “A volunteer is never wrong,” she said immediately. “And a Snicket can’t afford to be wrong, either.”

I do not know how I left the room. I know I moved, and I know Kit said something else, and I know I slammed the door, and I know I passed someone in the hallway, but I also know that my vision only became clear again when I made it outside. 

The east courtyard was dark and shadowy, which didn’t help the tightness in my chest. I couldn’t see much, and the undeniable darkness reminded me of long, uneasy years spent alone, wondering what would happen to me. I thought about it again, and I still didn’t have the answer. I felt my way over to a bench and sat down. I did not want to look at the stars, so I frowned at the grass instead and thought about breathing until I could think about my sister. 

I loved my sister very much. Not only because she was my sister, as you are under no obligation to like your siblings if you do not want to, but because she was my best friend. Before our apprenticeships, we had done a number of things together, from recommending books to breaking into buildings to figuring out puzzles, and had trusted each other over everyone else. She always knew exactly what to say, even when she wasn’t there, and the things she told me made sense. 

I could not reconcile the Kit who stood in the library with the sister who promised me she would be there for me. What was worse was that I could not remember a time where my sister and I were not working for our organization. I could not remember a time where we were not, after all was said and done, after everything I wanted to think, volunteers. 

I heard a voice behind me. 

“Lemony?” 

In the coming years, I would learn to keep my back to any available wall, not just so that I could make a quick exit, but so that no one could sneak up behind me. It is uncomfortable for anyone to have someone unknown lingering behind them with equally unknown motives, but I do not think it is too much to say that I in particular found it distressingly horrifying. My blood went cold, and all the air left my lungs again, and I whirled around with the unrealistic but visceral expectation that they had caught up with me.

I did not know who I feared more. Ellington, her question mark eyebrows curled deep around her wild eyes. Her father, his smile unlike the one in his photograph. The Bombinating Beast, its wild, flickering tongue. Moxie, the bandage still on her arm, avoiding my gaze. I did not want to see them. I wanted to be left alone. 

It wasn’t any of them. 

It was my brother. 

He looked very much how I remembered him. He was still taller than I was, with something of Kit in his face and probably something of me. I should have been relieved to see him standing there, to see my brother in person after so long, but I did not know what I felt. There was very little I could feel, besides how fast my heart was beating. 

Jacques sat down beside me and smiled, but he couldn’t hide his concern. “Kit said something about research she'd been working on.” 

I shrugged, and then I waited. I waited for all the things I expected Jacques to tell me, what I had imagined on the darkest nights of my life. It would be worse than Kit yelling at me, because Jacques wouldn’t yell. Jacques would be quiet, and would ask me, almost kindly, what I was doing, the same way he always asked me, only now the phrase would hold so much weight I wouldn’t be able to take it.

“I don’t think that was her only copy,” Jacques said instead. “I think she was just frustrated, that’s all.”

I should have known. I stared at my hands and told myself I should have known. Not only was my sister truly angry with me, but I had not stopped anything.

“I haven’t seen you in—it must be three years now,” Jacques continued. I could hear a smile in his voice, and that caused me an even deeper misery. “You look a little taller, brother.” 

“I hear that’s how it works,” I said. There was something clipped and bitter about my voice, and I regretted it instantly. This was not how I expected either reunion with my siblings to go. It was less than what I had hoped, beyond what I had worried. 

Jacques put his hand on my shoulder. “Would you like to talk about it?” 

I did not want to talk about it. I did not want to talk about what I had thought of, what I had realized in the past three years, what I had done. I did not want to talk about our sister. I did not want to talk about the thin line between being noble and being a villain, how easy it was to become uncertain, how hard it was to be disappointed in what you trusted, how loss sat around inside you like an unwelcome house guest who ate all your favorite snacks and still kept asking for more. 

And yet, I felt I could ask Jacques. I could ask him, more than I could ask Kit. I could look him in the eye and still see my brother there. 

“Jacques,” I began quietly, but then I found that there was a sadness in my throat where I usually expected words. Anything I could’ve tried to say would be insufficient. I was too young to be thinking the things I was. I had a feeling that when I was old enough to think them, they still wouldn’t feel right. How could you question the only thing you had ever known? And what were you supposed to do, if you were right? 

I looked at my brother, and something shifted in his expression. I suppose I should’ve been comforted in seeing my own indecision reflected back at me on his face, but I was not. I was frightened. I was frightened for my brother, and I was frightened of my brother. 

“We do what we have to do,” Jacques said, a tremor in his voice. He swallowed and looked away from me. “We are what we have to be.” 

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” I said. 

“No,” he whispered. 

It was not what I wanted to hear. But it was the only truth we had. 

Jacques sighed. “Lemony,” he said, “what do you think of the weather this morning?” 

It was not morning. It was, in fact, too late, and at night. The corners of my eyes burned. I was fifteen and I was tired, and Jacques was eighteen and trying to hold the three of us together the only way he knew how. 

“Heather?” I said. “We aren’t near any open spaces.” 

“Suitcases?” my brother said. “Are you planning a trip? It’s cold this time of year.” 

“Limes and cheers? That sounds like a very sour celebration, Jacques.” 

We continued the game for some time. A while later, Kit came out and sat beside us, and didn’t say a single word about how inane she thought Beethoven was. We could pretend we were only siblings, not volunteers, with parents who were still alive and merely waiting for us in our house, instead of the unfathomable faces we would have to face when we entered headquarters again, or the ones we would see when we looked in the mirror. 

I did not know what else would happen to us. Even after what we’d been through, there was no way any of us could know. My sister had her eyes on something else, and would not look away for a long time; my brother would second-guess his silence; I would not forgive myself, even when given the opportunity. 

We were not necessarily happy, in this moment. We were a family, in this moment, and what we did know was that that could not last.

**Author's Note:**

> the disconnect lemony must feel from his associates and particularly his siblings after he returns from stain’d-by-the-sea, and the trouble these siblings must have in relating to each other after what they’ve experienced and how they’ve each processed it, is something I think about often and it gets me every time, cats. it might even out, if only a little, when they get older. but right now it sucks. 
> 
> my [tumblr!!](https://whoslaurapalmer.tumblr.com)


End file.
